Autumn Leaves By The Graveside
by ToxicRainfall
Summary: Fred II never knew his namesake, Uncle Fred. So one day, he visits his grave and ponders his father's grief... A tribute to Fred Weasley.


**Autumn Leaves by the Graveside**

**Fred Weasley II**

**A/N:** This is for around the r i v e r b e n d's **'Tribute to Fred Weasley' Competition**. It's from Fred Weasley II's POV. I have mixed feelings about this piece, but I hope you enjoy! :D

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><p>The autumn breeze lifted a swirl of dried leaves, making them dance in a rhythm that no-one would ever understand. Freddie watched them solemnly, his dark eyes following the leaves as they pirouetted through the air. He saw one leaf, a particularly shrivelled orange one, break away from the cloud of others and drift soundlessly to rest on the grave in front of him.<p>

Freddie forgot the leaves and let his eyes skim the words on the headstone in front of him. It read:

'R.I.P.

FREDERICK GIDEON WEASLEY

BORN 1ST APRIL 1978 – DIED 2ND MAY 1998

HE DIED A HERO, WITH A SMILE UPON HIS FACE.

HE WILL FOREVER BE MISSED.'

Freddie had never met his namesake, yet he had heard such great things. His uncle was a hero, yet one of the funniest people in the Wizarding World. He was told that his dad and uncle were a pair of pranksters, forever pulling jokes and forever laughing. They even said that his uncle _died_ laughing. He wasn't sure if he believed that, but he'd like to think it was true. The thought of his uncle dying in fear or anguish was too much to bear, and Freddie's eyes teared up at the mere thought. No, he'd rather believe that Uncle Fred died happy, with no fear and no sadness.

He wished he had known Uncle Fred. The prank-pulling twins sounded hilarious, and Freddie felt that if he'd known them, he would have found them very funny indeed.

But Fred was gone, and George rarely smiled, let alone laughed. Freddie often watched his father, noticing his haunted eyes and gaunt face. But on occasion, there would be a soft light in his eyes, and a smile ghosting his lips. This only ever happened when either Freddie or his sister Roxanne ever did something stupid or funny. Freddie liked to think that they reminded his father of his twin, and that made Freddie try even harder to make his father smile. One day, he wished he could hear his father's laugh.

It seems hard to imagine his father laughing and joking all the time, but Freddie wished, more than anything, that Uncle Fred hadn't died, if only for the fact that his father wouldn't be the shadow of the man he once was.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo. In it, the twins were standing within a large group of adults, who were members of the Second Order of the Phoenix. In it, his father and uncle were looking very serious, though would occasionally shoot the odd mischievous glance at one another. That made Freddie smile.

He was glad that Uncle Fred was his father's twin, as it meant that he never had to try and imagine what he looked like. His father was the perfect replica. Well, except for the lack of smiles that were supposedly always on Fred's face. The worst thing was his father's tears. Freddie couldn't count the amount of times he had accidentally stumbled into a room where his father had been sobbing into the very picture Freddie was holding.

"Don't cry, daddy," he'd said, a thousand times.

But that never stopped him. His father was one half of a perfect whole, and now that Fred was gone, half of his father had gone too.

Freddie put the photo back in his pocket and instead turned to the gravestone. He looked around awkwardly, checking no-one was nearby, before speaking quietly.

"Hey, Uncle Fred. Um, I know we haven't met, but I need to ask you something. I- Father is so sad without you. So please, I beg of you, give him back. I know you couldn't help it, but when you died, you took half of him with you, so please, please, give it back. I want father to smile and laugh, but I don't think he can do it without you. So once again I ask, please help. He needs you."

Freddie waited a moment, almost expecting an answer, but when nothing came, he sighed and turned away. As he did so, the wind suddenly exhaled loudly, sounding almost as though it was saying "Yes". Freddie's eyes widened and he turned back to the grave, and was astonished when he realised another orange leaf had landed precisely next to the first one. The stalks were just about touching, and it looked almost like they were holding hands.

Though he didn't want to look too much into it, Freddie couldn't help but smile widely.

He whispered "Thanks" into the wind, and turned away once again, tucking his hands into his pockets. He walked the longest possible way home, pondering what had possibly just happened. Had his uncle communicated with him somehow? He knew it was impossible but part of him believed that it had actually happened.

It didn't take long for him to reach his front door, so he pushed it open, trying to suppress the wide grin that was etched on his face.

His father was sitting in the living room, and he looked up as Freddie walked in and sat on the sofa, the grin still on his face. His father stared at him a moment, a strange look on his face.

Freddie glanced at him. "What is it, dad?"

George stared a moment longer, before saying, "Sorry, nothing. For a second, you just looked so much like F- Never mind."

"No, tell me who." But Freddie had a suspicion he knew exactly who his father was talking about.

George sighed heavily. "For a second, you looked so much like your Uncle Fred."

A helpless snigger escaped Freddie's lips. "Well you look like Uncle Fred all the time! Well, except for the missing ear."

A small, reminiscent smile played on George's face. "What are you talking about? This missing ear makes me more saint-like. Holy, y'know?"

"With the whole wide world of ear-related humour, you go for 'I`m holey'? Pathetic."

George stopped smiling, and looked at Freddie seriously. "Why did you say that?"

"Because that joke was awful!" He laughed lightly.

"No, I mean, why did you phrase it like that?"

Freddie frowned. "Uh, it just came to me, I guess. Why, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing. It's just, that's exactly what Uncle Fred said when I made the same joke when I first lost my ear. It seems strange that you would say the same thing exactly."

"Oh. I'm sorry dad, I didn't know."

George stayed silent a moment. "It's okay, Freddie. I-I, thanks."

He got up suddenly and left the room, and Freddie was worried he'd harmed his father. He didn't know how he had said the same thing as his namesake, but he had a feeling it was something to do with the strange occurrences earlier.

He just hoped his father was okay…

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><p>The next day, Freddie left early for Uncle Fred's grave. He wanted to see if anything else weird would happen.<p>

But just as he neared the grave, he suddenly noticed his father bent over it, talking in a hushed voice. Freddie moved silently closeer, and crouched behind a nearby grave, listening to his father.

"-believe it! I mean, it was exactly the same as you said! He caught me so off guard! He really is growing up to be so much like you. I almost feel like you're here with me, Fred. I… I'm so grateful that Freddie is so… supportive. And he doesn't tread on eggshells around me. He really is like you. He thought my 'holey' joke was pathetic too."

George paused a moment, before suddenly erupting into laughter. Freddie was so shocked by the sound that he tumbled from his spot behind the nearby gravestone. His father turned around abruptly, stopping his laugh straight away. But the sight of Freddie in the mud made his face crease up once again, and a chuckle bubbled from his lips.

Freddie stared at his father, and started laughing too.

It was the first time he'd ever heard his father truly laugh, and the happiness that grew inside him was more than he'd experienced in a long time.

He pulled himself to his feet and joined his father at Uncle Fred's graveside, and they both laughed for a long while, until they eventually wound down into cheerful grins.

"Thanks, Uncle Fred, for giving dad back."

George glanced at him sidelong. "And thanks, Uncle Fred, for giving me the best son anyone could wish for."

A single gust of wind made a solitary orange leaf dance about their heads, before drifting into the distance.

Freddie would never know his Uncle truly, but through George's new found happiness, he could at least see what he had been like.

They left the grave then, neither of them noticing the single, live leaf resting at its stony base…


End file.
